


Jim's Drunken Escapade

by justsimplymeagain



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Potentially out of character, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Tattoo, is it though?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:58:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsimplymeagain/pseuds/justsimplymeagain
Summary: He was drunk last night – it was all because he was drunk last night. It had to be, after all how else would he have gotten a tattoo.





	Jim's Drunken Escapade

Jim's head pounded and he felt sick to his stomach, he shouldn't have gone out on the town with Harvey – it was a bad idea. But with everything finally sort of settling down, they figured a night on the town would be good. Jim didn't want to admit that part of the reason why things were settling down was that the criminal world was once more being controlled – by Oswald Cobblepot of all people.

But he was doing a surprisingly good job, not that Jim would ever be caught admitting that.

But be it as it may, things were okay. More or less.

He may end up considering shooting Harvey later, it was his idea to go bar hopping. And somewhere along the way – he lost his partner. Jim kept going though, because why not. He thinks he may have ended up at the Iceberg Lounge once, didn't stay long because of one thing – Oswald.

Sitting up was reason enough to wince. His ass hurt. Did he fall? No, no that would be centred more around his tailbone? But then, being as drunk as he was last night he wouldn't have put it past himself to fall. Pushing himself up he checked for his badge and gun, both were present.

“Thank god...” Jim wouldn't have heard the last of it if he lost either given that he was now the Captain of GCPD. The last thing he needed was to lose was his badge and gun. It would have caused a huge problem for him.

Rubbing his face he stumbled his way towards the kitchen – coffee was a must. Then maybe if he can stomach it something to eat. Halfway through a bottle of water, Jim caught sight of a business card. It was turned face down. Where did he pick that up? Jim swapped the bottle of water for the business card, flipping it around and found himself shocked at the fact that it was for a tattoo shop.

“Wh-? Oh shit! Oh fuck!” Jim sputtered out, looking over himself he saw nothing on his arms or where he could see on his back. Okay so maybe it was just picking up a business card. Something he now threw out, tattoos weren't his thing. He had better things to spend money on. Like more aspirin or something for a pounding headache, he had to deal with.

Calming down from his near fright, Jim wandered towards his shower. Dropping his clothing as he went. He'll clean later, right now he just needed a shower and then food and hopefully, no one gets murdered today so he doesn't get that phone call.

It was here he made the unfortunate discovery – a bandaged area on his ass.

“Fuck...”

Just his luck. Maybe something discreet. Please be something discreet! He was practically praying that it would be a star or a moon or maybe even GCPD or something. He'll even take the cities name.

“Please... please... please.” Jim begged, he didn't know who he was begging but he was. Maybe it was a prank. Maybe Harvey was pranking him? But nope, after he successfully removed the bandage he was left staring at a tattoo the size of his hand at least... and the worst part was that it was -

A penguin! And not only that, a penguin with an umbrella.

“M-maybe it's fake...” Jim reasoned, the slight swelling said otherwise but he poked and rubbed at a small part of it. Which smarted and proved once and for all, he was stuck with a tattoo of a Penguin with an Umbrella on his ass.

“Son of a bitch...” Jim hissed out. He found a clean bandage big enough to put on it after his shower. He had to make sure no one will ever find out. If he had one night stands, the lights stay off. And for under no circumstance can Oswald find out, Jim didn't know how the other man would react and Jim didn't want to find out.

After his shower, he found a package of aftercare and glared at it. But he had the damned thing now, might as well make sure it doesn't get infected because explaining that one to the doctor was out of the question especially when there was no mistaking who the Penguin was. With a sigh, he did as it told him to, put the bandage on and right before he could find clothing a hard knock was heard.

It didn't sound like a fist pounding on his door, instead, it sounded like a cane.

“Fuck...”

Another knock.

“Coming!” Jim hopes that buys him time and quickly grabs a towel because after the week he had he looked like he was out of clean laundry because everything usable was either in the laundry bin or scattered on the ground leading from the kitchen to the bathroom.

Cursing to himself he hoped whoever it is won't want him to go anywhere or be here long.

But unsurprisingly and much to his dismay, it was Oswald Cobblepot himself at the door. Fine suit tailored just for him, hair in perfect order and not a single strand out of line. The man can dress up very nicely that's for sure. Jim frowned at himself, of course, Oswald probably thought it was intended for him, not that he showed it. Carefully designed smile as the crippled man pushed past Jim and into the apartment. Cane clicking on his floor as his apartment was given the once-over.

“Hi, Jim!” The second person at his door, hairless and deadly – none other than Victor Zsasz.

“Hi, Victor.” How did this become his life? It must be something in Gotham.

“Did you injure yourself Jim?” Oswald's voice finally rang out, Jim spun around slightly focusing on Oswald all the while snapping, “I only fell on my ass, that's it. That's all it is. And what the hell are you doing looking at my ass.”

“I wasn't.” Oswald didn't sound as offended as he probably would have been normally if someone raised their voice at him if anything he sounded amused. It was only when he noted that Oswald was looking at the old bandage on the floor in the bathroom that he had on his unexpected tattoo that Jim realized he made a mistake.

“Oh... uh... sorry?” Jim wished that Victor would just shoot him now instead of standing there looking far too amused for his own good. Maybe Jim can shoot him? Or arrest him, yes arrest him would be much better. It would be nice to see him behind bars for once.

“Guilty about something?” Victor asked.

“No, I'm not. Why?” Jim snapped as he scanned the room for semi-clean boxers he can put on so he doesn't have to worry about the towel around his waist. All the while ignoring the fact that he – James Gordon, Captain of the GCPD might be blushing and beyond embarrassed.

“Secrets then?” Victor pushed. Grinning because this was clearly a source of amusement for the killer.

“Everyone has secrets! Why are you asking? I don't have anyone arrested that's useful for you two. As far as I know, GCPD and you guys had nothing to do with each other. So why are you asking?” Jim snapped, what he was saying was probably making him seem like a dirty cop. Which he wasn't, it was just them trying to stay out of each other's way. More or less, if someone under Oswald's command is caught doing something, then they get arrested. Simple as that. It wasn't like they looked the other way.

“You're acting funny Jim. This isn't normal for you.” This time it was Oswald, who was now leaning against Jim's desk and taking the weight off his bad leg. Jim wondered if the man every considered getting surgery to fix it.

“I'm standing in my apartment in only a fucking towel with the literal Kingpin of Gotham and possibly the most deadly assassin that I know of. How else am I supposed to act?!” Jim used his free arm to indicate the both of them now. Jim forced himself to calm down, maybe he was dreaming?

Yes, yes he has to be dreaming!

“How many stitches?” Victor asked and Jim couldn't think for a moment, and it showed with a simple, “What?”

“Your ass. How many stitches did you get, you fell remember. Said so yourself.” Victor asked eyeing the dirty bandage in his bathroom carefully. He really should have thrown that away and closed his bathroom door. From their position, every room was semi or completely visible. He shouldn't have moved here either, but that was something to consider another day. If he was in his old place everything wouldn't be as visible as it is now.

“Five.” Jim snapped.

“Awfully big bandage for five stitches.” Victor countered. Enjoying himself and Oswald seemed amused as well.

“Fine ten, does it matter?!” Jim forced out, glaring at Victor now.

“There's a bit colour on the bandage.” Victor said now that he was standing at the bathroom entrance. Is he serious! Why is that important?

“Why am I being interrogated?! Why are you two here?” Jim was getting pissed, bewildered and pissed at the exact same time.

“You forgot your phone at my lounge. Harvey kept messaging you, begging you not to do what he dared you to do.” Oswald answered offhandedly. Not really bothered by Jim's anger clearly.

“You read my messages?” Jim accused glaring at the relaxed man before him.

“They appeared on screen, so yes. It couldn't be helped. Apparently, you were dared to get a tattoo of your choosing, only an hour after he apparently lost you he started to beg you to not to go through with it while drunk. This message was sent thirty minutes after your visit to my lounge.” Oswald explained, grinning with eyes bright with mischief. Not a bad look on the man, but it usually meant nothing good. So maybe bad? Jim frowned and looked at the messages that showed as Oswald held up his phone for him.

He was so stupid. He was never getting that drunk again!

Jim tried to grab his phone but Oswald put it away in his pocket. Jim stood up straight and crossed his arms, confident that his towel will hold. But if he didn't cross his arms, sober or not he found he would probably lunge his phone and any unnecessary movements might get him shot. Despite Victor's relaxed and amused disposition, the man was aware of every movement made in this apartment.

“Can I have my phone.” Jim asked only remembering afterwards to say, “Please.”

“In a moment, first thing's first. Our conversation last night, do you even remember it?” Oswald asked, not really giving Jim a moment to answer, “I imagine not, given how drunk you were. But it raised a few questions and made even more things a tad bit more interesting. Interesting enough that I had you followed, just to make sure you got home safe and sound, old friend.”

“I was tailed...” Jim is really not going to go out on the town drinking ever again.

“You were. By me.” Victor answered for Oswald before continuing, “I saw you go into the tattoo shop.”

“You did...” Jim was dying to ask if Victor knew what Jim asked for, and praying that he didn't know. It would be his only mercy at the moment. But mercy apparently wasn't Victor's thing even in this situation.

“I was confused and downright bewildered when Victor informed me of your choice given our history, but after some adjustment and thinking back on our conversation. I am more flattered today Jim, the location might not be my first choice. But it is appreciated all the same.” Oswald was enjoying himself! Jim could only imagine his own expression at this point, the heat in his face and the fact that he can't seem to string together a few words.

Why can't the floor cave in on him? A stray bullet maybe? A car even?

Wait?!

Conversation, what conversation!

“What conversation?! I was drunk... what conversation?!” Jim was desperate, what did he get himself into! Did he volunteer to hide a body?! What did he do? Oh no, what did he volunteer to do? Did he volunteer to do something?

“The conversation itself was unimportant, you were drunk and I can hardly hold you to any of your colourful proposals. The contents of it, however, is very enlightening. It explains a great number of things.” Jim could tell Oswald was having way too much fun, probably the most innocent and laid back source of amusement the man could find at the moment. Given his choice of people he employs.

“Although not a truth serum, alcohol does make people open up more and overshare in some cases. It's handy in getting information, it's just plain detective work after that to sift truth from imaginings.” Victor piped up to explain and Jim wondered if he had time to go get his gun and shoot the deadly assassin. Victor adding as an afterthought, “And I did the detective work, it was fun. Doing what you do for a change. It's 2 pm now, I had all morning to compile my findings.”

Jim by now managed to get himself together. Putting on his usual expression when dealing with these two... barely. His head was killing him.

Jim wanted to tell Victor that there was a bit more to it than that, but he wasn't going to explain that. Sudden movement pulled his attention back to Oswald who was now standing less than an arms length away from Jim. His phone pushed into his hand. It seemed like something was casting doubt and Oswald was pulling himself back together. Back to the serious albeit sarcastic Kingpin he was not even two days ago.

It was almost – regretful to see that happening.

Son of a bitch!

Did he flirt? Was he drunk flirting?

“Have a good day, old friend.” There was a slight more bite to the last part. Jim cursed. Today was not a day to be dealing with this. He had a headache, his ass hurt, he felt nauseous and now had a moody Kingpin on his hands. Which the later could be a dangerous situation. But he trusted Oswald to keep a hold of himself, always had.

What was his life coming to?

“Oswald.” Jim called after him, he looks absolutely ridiculous and underdressed in his own apartment but damn it the man wasn't going to storm off in a mood because of this whole damned mess. Oswald did stop and turn to Jim, expectantly at the door. Victor already out in the hall waiting. Clearly trusting that Jim wouldn't do anything foolish.

But what should he say, Oswald seemed to be impatient and not very approving of being held back.

But Jim who had no plan on what to say, had to say something fast so he said the first thing he did notice about the man who invaded his apartment with his deadly bodyguard. So he did, with a simple, “You look nice today Oswald.” It seemed to lift the man up some, not that he needed it. Time and time again Jim watched the man practically rise from the ashes.

“Thank you Jim, and a word of advice. The next time you come to my lounge do try to be a bit more sober so you can remember our conversation.” With that Oswald left. Jim tried to remember exactly what he was saying to Oswald when he was drunk, flirting clearly was a part of it. Or maybe it wasn't? Oh shit, what is he getting himself into! He's never going out for a night on the town ever again.

One thing was for sure, he was never going to tell Harvey that he did exactly what he was told not to do.

Get a tattoo.

Oddly, despite the fact that the tattoo was of a Penguin with an Umbrella it didn't feel like a brand or a self-inflicted wound. At least beyond it being skin deep.

* * *

Come say hi: [justsimplymeagain](http://justsimplymeagain.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know if this counts as a crackfic or crack taken serious, but either way, it was fun to write. Don't really take it too serious, characters are probably out of character.


End file.
